Can You Hear Me Whisper

By Irina Reiches

Chaos reigned the streets of Lithuania as Sonia emerged into the world into the loving arms of her parents, just after the Soviets rolled their tanks into the streets of Vilnius, to take charge. Sonia grows up as an idealistic young girl in the post - World War II Soviet Union and embraces Communism for all of its promises. But when she rec

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rushmore Press LLC
• Release date: Oct 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781956010282

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ISBN 978-1-956010-27-5 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-956010-28-2 (digital)

Copyright © 2021 by Irina Reiches

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Rev. date: 09/14/2021

Rushmore Press LLC

1 800 460 9188

www.rushmorepress.com

Printed in the United States of America

To my amazing granddaughter, Israela, who stepped unexpectedly into my life with her charming perfect smile, sunshine, and love. Izzy is a rare gift from the Almighty.

Contents

Foreword

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

Glossary for Yiddish Words

Foreword

We have no control over the circumstances of our birth, neither the time, place nor parents. I was born during the horrors of the Holocaust to two Jewish newlyweds in Vilna, Lithuania, then part of the Soviet Union quickly occupied by the Nazis. Statistically speaking, I had little chance of surviving. Over 95% of Lithuania’s Jews were exterminated - a more complete destruction than befell any country affected by the Holocaust.

My father was among those murdered. I never knew him, but I intend this book to honour those very few who insisted on preserving a flicker of humanity among the consuming flames of war and annihilation; and who often paid the price of their courage with their lives.

I will never know precisely why I defied the odds. But I know for certain that it was largely attributable to one remarkable woman whose decency overcame her fear and who enabled an infant girl whose nearly entire family was executed to share her story.

The evils of war are often so incomprehensible that they tend to be forgotten in the years to come. As one of the few who were saved, I believe it would be a crime to keep silent.

Prologue

Iwas twenty-seven years old when I died.

On April 4, 1943, we were playing Schubert’s Death and the Maiden with my string quartet at the Officer’s Club at the old city hall in Volozin. I was engrossed in my memories. In this same place, ten years earlier, I had participated in a violin competition. My mother, Bella, had sat crying in the audience for most of the time I played.

Heavy, burgundy drapes graced both sides of the large, oval ballroom. There were four high Imperial-styled columns in each corner. The gold leaf was worn out, but its presence created an indisputable majesty. Two enormous crystal chandeliers from the Napoleonic era were dimly lit, illuminating the parquet floor with intricate designs created by local masters more than a hundred years ago. Divine sounds of my favourite composer floated through the air, trying to escape reality.

Two couples were dancing in the middle of the ballroom. One of the pretty women reminded me of my beloved Raisa. She had the same petite body, the shining cascade of curly, blond hair, and the same dreamy romantic quality about her movements.

Suddenly, I felt someone staring at me. I turned my head to the right. Orlovich!

She was sitting in the back booth next to the head of the local police who was wearing a German uniform. There was no escape. I felt a sharp pain of unexpected fear in my chest and in my head. What should I do now? I never imagined someone from Vilna would arrive in this remote town in Byelorussia.

There was clear recognition in her eyes. Pani Orlovich leaned closer to her neighbour and whispered into his ear.

I waited for two minutes, then got up to leave discreetly. Two German officers were by the door waiting for me. This was the moment I died—not two days later when they actually shot me in the yard just for fun.

1

H ow old is Raisa? Israel asked his friend Jasha.

Israel was aware that she was looking at him all through the evening. He pretended not to notice.

Maybe seventeen. She is stunning. Don’t dream, Izia. Raisa is not exactly our class.

Raisa was a little princess known for her beauty, charm, and her warm and ready smile. She was admired by her family and everyone who met her. Despite her family’s wealth, Raisa had a reputation for being very compassionate, gentle, and kind.

She was petite—5 feet, 2 inches—with sky-blue eyes, blond curls touching her shoulders, and full, inviting lips that were half open in a smile. She was so young; so innocent.

Class or no class, Israel believed that should he dare ask Raisa for a dance, he would not be rejected.

When he did invite Raisa, she blushed. Her hand trembled. She danced gracefully following his every move.

The next morning, Israel woke up with a headache and a fever. He had no strength to get up or to have a cup of tea. He stayed home all day.

In a week’s time was his birthday; he would be twenty-four. Israel wished his mother was in town. His mother, Bella Israelit, was stuck in some distant village in a part of Belorussia, which after the division of Poland by Hitler and Stalin, was under Soviet rule. Bella Israelit was having difficulty getting a permit to return to Vilna.

Israel kept his mother’s photo next to his bed, Actually, it was a photo of his mother, his older brother, Osik, and him. It was taken just before Osik left for France.

Osik was an ambitious, hard-working young man, who could not tolerate the recent ghetto bench policy which prevented Jewish students at the university to sit together with other students. He found it too humiliating. He chose to stand at the back of the auditorium in protest during classes.

Osik was a real intellectual who wished to make the world a better place. He dreamed of going to Palestine to build a Jewish State. But first he wanted to become an engineer. Osik left to study in Paris and was doing pretty well on his own. He wrote long letters home and didn’t seem to miss Vilna.

Israel, on the other hand, loved his hometown. Vilna was a centre of Jewish culture in Eastern Europe. There were more than one hundred synagogues, educational institutions, professional guilds, a Jewish public school, a Jewish theatre, choirs, and a Gymnasium that taught in Yiddish and Hebrew. There were two Jewish choirs that sang in Yiddish—one was the choir of the Jewish Educational Society, and the other was the Gerstein choir which was named after its conductor. There were also two daily Jewish newspapers and many political groups.

In Vilna there were many Jewish craftsmen including hat makers, tailors, bronze workers, and leather men; Jewish life was blossoming. Of the 220,000-person population, 60,000 were Jews. Israel was apolitical. He was surrounded by good friends, enjoyed life, and loved classical music. He had played violin and piano since he was seven years old and had won many competitions all over Poland.

In the late afternoon his friend Jasha dropped by and was surprised to find him in bed.

My God, Izia, I came by to take you out. You look sick!

I will be fine. Don’t worry.

Israel did not feel better for quite a few days. On Friday afternoon he had dozed off and did not hear the front door open. The delicious smell of homemade chicken soup woke him up. It was a familiar smell, very much like that of his mother’s soup. Suddenly, he was ready to eat.

Please, try a little. It is good for your health. Gentle, beautiful Raisa was holding a pretty bowl on a lovely cobalt-coloured plate with a Chinese design. I brought it from home. Please try it.

Raisa, how did you know that I was sick? How did you find me? I cannot believe it.

Are you really surprised that I found you? Happy to see me?

Happy? Am I happy? I am in heaven. I think that I am dreaming. Israel managed get up from his bed. I already feel better. I don’t think I am sick anymore.

Izia, just have some chicken soup. I will not stay long. It is getting late for the Sabbath.

Raisa tiptoed into her spacious family home from the back entrance. She could see the light in her father’s room. Her mother, Masha Kaplan, was still in the kitchen. Raisa hugged her, holding her tightly.

Mama, I want to marry him. I want to be his wife.

My sweet baby, you are too young; too young to think about a husband.

"There is nobody else for me. I was born to be his wife. Israel is my bashert!"

Masha Kaplan put her arms around her youngest, prettiest daughter and kissed her forehead. She held her curly head on her large, loving chest.

My dear maidale, these are very strong words for such a young, innocent child like you. She stroked her daughter’s cheeks and hair while rocking her gently. It seemed like only yesterday that her little baby (who she liked to call Shirley Temple) was sitting on her lap in the movie theatre watching Bright Eyes or Curly Top. Raisa looked like the precious, little, American star. Now her Raisala was talking about marriage.

"I want to marry before Pesach," whispered Raisa, hugging her mother’s neck.

Go. Get ready for Sabbath, Masha said as if she didn’t hear her daughter.

Masha looked at the angelic face of her favourite daughter and became aware that Cupid had smiled; it had happened. Girl and boy had met! Raisa was a seventeen-year-old princess who loved her family, adored her mother and her brother, and loved to dance. Her life was bursting with joy. Israel was dashing and oozing with charm. His sweet violin pierced Raisa’s heart. Sparks flew. Their budding love was full of promise in the beautiful spring.

That same spring Raisa graduated from Sofia Gurevich Gymnasium. The teachers were excellent. Many of them taught at the University level.

Raisa had many friends. She was known for her generosity. Everyone talked about how during Purim she had brought a lot of shlachmones from home. She filled two or three huge baskets so everyone could have a treat.

Her best friend, Gita, couldn’t afford to go to Sofia Gurevich Gymnasium because her parents had to support a family of seven children. Instead, Gita went to Ikh Duh Arbet to learn how to sew, knit, and embroider. The school, established in 1920, was where Jewish girls went to be trained in crafts. Gita gave Raisa an embroidery item as a present for each of her birthdays.

Gita’s father was a talented artist who painted. Gita had an older brother, a brilliant Zionist poet, who had died during an awful typhoid epidemic. Her brother’s death was a tragedy for her, and she mourned for him for seven days while sitting on the floor wearing torn clothes as she sat Shiva. After graduation from school, Gita left for Palestine.

Israel came to the house to introduce himself and to ask Raisa out. They went for a walk along the river, and talked for hours while sitting on various benches. Raisa asked Israel many questions. She wanted to know everything about him.

Raisala, it is almost ten o’clock. I better bring you home. Israel got up.

As they were approaching the elaborate iron gate of a large, stone mansion, they could see Raisa’s father on the second-floor balcony. He saw them and came down.

I apologize if we are late. Thank you for allowing me to take Raisa out. I would like to do it again, Israel said politely.

It is not up to me. It is up to her if she wants to go out with you again, her father replied in Yiddish. Raisa blushed, ran upstairs, and watched through the window as Israel shook her father’s hand and slowly disappeared from view as he walked away.

The two days that Raisa didn’t hear from him seemed to be the longest and most boring in all her happy and cheerful life. She couldn’t talk or think about anything but Israel.

The next time they met, Israel invited Raisa for a walk to the Castle Mountain in the middle of the city, behind the Cathedral. She had never been there before. She was touched that he brought them lunch and remembered to bring her favourite pastry, Stephania. As Israel unwrapped the seven-layered piece of cake and gave it to her, his long, elegant fingers touched her hand. Raisa felt electricity flow through her entire body. She thought herself to be the luckiest person on the entire planet.

On their next date, they went to see the show Hansel and Gretel. Raisa loved it. After the show, Israel took her to a charming, little coffee shop called Sztralla on Mizkevicho Street, just two blocks away from her home.

Raisa, will you marry me? Israel asked, gently touching the curls around her chin.

Their honeymoon was spent in Palanga, on the Baltic Sea. Raisa’s parents bought them a car as a wedding present.

Raisa idolized everything about her husband: his voice, his eyes, the way he looked at her, the way he talked to her family and their friends, the way he walked, the way he treated her, and the way he played the violin. Israel called her his angel.

In her prayers, Raisa promised G-d that she would live up to being his wife. She believed that she was born to make him happy. Whenever she looked into his eyes, a warm, loving wave rushed through her heart, touched her dimples, and stopped at her knees.

Every morning Raisa ran to the bakery for fresh pastries, Swiss cheese, and butter so that Israel and she would enjoy a breakfast in their garden.

Their Polish maid, Zoysia, cooked delicious and traditional Jewish meals such as boiled buckwheat with fried onions. Raisa made sure to ask Zoysia to prepare Israel’s favourites: zimus with carrots, chicken liver, lockshen kugel with raisins, borsch with marinated beetroots, even cholent. For Sabbath, Raisa’s mother made Napoleon cake especially for Israel. She also made sure to get him the sour pickles, that he liked so much, which were actually produced in Trokai.

After a late lunch in the afternoons, Israel would usually stay home, play violin, sing romantic songs, and encourage Raisa to sing along. He claimed she had a very pleasant voice. Nobody had ever said that to her before. Her sister Leah had a terrific ear for music. Leah sang in the Yiddish theatre, but not Raisa.

I love to hear your voice, Izia said as he kissed her and swung her around the mahogany coffee table.

On August 23, 1939, just before Hitler occupied Poland, the Soviets signed the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact dividing Poland.

The Soviets were feeding the Nazi war with petroleum, copper, nickel, platinum, lumber, and rubber from India, 500,000 tons of phosphates, 900,000 tons of milk products, 1,500,000 tons of grain, and zinc purchased from the British Empire. On June 15, 1939, the Soviet Red Army invaded the eastern part of Poland and Lithuania.

In November the Soviets allowed the Lithuanians to claim Vilna as their capital and to rename it Vilnius. Then things changed fast. It was difficult to absorb what was happening or to figure out what to do next. Nobody expected Soviet tanks to roll into the city streets, yet there were hundreds of uniformed Russians arriving every day. Kids were excited to watch tanks rolling on the main street and to chat with the friendly soldiers. Adults were more cautious and were afraid of Communists.

In June 1940, Moscow issued an ultimatum demanding a change of governments. The three Baltic states were incorporated into the Soviet Union as the Estonian, Latvian, and Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republics.

The Soviets took complete charge of Vilnius. The Russians were fairly generous to the poor and forbade people to refer to Jews using derogatory names. The Soviet authorities wasted no time, however. They promptly confiscated private property, arrested priests, high government officials, the intelligentsia, and business people. They began with the deportation of Lithuanian Zionists. In total, close to forty thousand people were put in trucks traveling deep inside Russia. Most died later in camps from hard labour and starvation.

Late one afternoon, Russian officers arrived at Raisa and Israel’s apartment and ordered Israel to follow them.

Please don’t take him. Take me. He never did anything wrong. He is not a Capitalist. We are not a bourgeois family, Raisa begged a young, red-headed Russian in uniform.

Raisa, don’t worry. Please calm down. Everything will be fine. Israel hugged her, ready to go.

No, no, nothing will be fine! Please, please take me instead of him. We just got married. Don’t take him away! she begged again.

The two young men seemed frustrated with her. Surprisingly, they said nothing and left.

The Soviets established their own government and put their own people in charge claiming that the Lithuanians asked for their help. Many Jewish people, Socialist in their inclination, trusted the Russians and worked closely with them.

Before the Russian occupation, Israel had been a musician in a local club, but the Soviet authorities closed it. Everyone was out of work. Because Israel spoke beautiful Russian, he made friends with some young officers and started working in the town’s department of education. He had plenty of free time to spend with his young wife.

They read books and newspapers together, discussed politics, took long walks in the evenings, and shared chocolate ice cream cones in the little café across the street from their bright and spacious apartment.

I find pregnant women very seductive, Israel teased Raisa when she first began showing signs of their baby growing inside her. Israel chose different names every day.

Once their baby girl was born, the grandparents, sisters, and friends showered the young couple with the most exquisite gifts. Raisa’s sister Leah bought a baby carriage from Belgium. Their housekeeper, Zoysia, made lacy, pink curtains to hang in the sunny room designated for the new baby. Zoysia’s husband painted the walls of the nursery with funny fantasy scenes from different fairy tales. Theirs seemed to be the nicest nursery in the entire world. Maybe the British queen had a nursery like theirs for her children.

What a magnificent daughter we have, Raisala. Do you realize how blessed we are, how good God is to us? Israel asked again and again while rocking their little angel with big, blue eyes that looked straight at him. She was bundled in lace and soft pink blankets.

Does she recognize me already? he wondered. "Sonia, Sonechka, ku-ku-ku! Look at me! Look here! I love you. I adore you. I am your Papa. I will always be there for you. I will take good care of you. You are my lucky, little girl. You already brought us so much nachas. One day you will be ready to marry, and guess what? Your papa and mama will walk you to the chupa."

Izenka, the way you talk to her, it melts my heart. Raisa had tears in her eyes.

Why tears? Israel kissed her cheeks while holding the baby in his arms. Why, my silly angel?

These are good tears. From joy, from our happiness. I must have done something terrific to deserve you.

Israel had plenty of time to spend with Raisa and their baby, Sonia. By the time she turned one year old, they were planning another child.

How many children would you like us to have? asked Raisa.

We will stop at five. I want us to build a big, happy family.

Israel’s mother was still far away in Byelorussia. Bella Israelit had graduated from a Russian Gymnasium. She was born in 1895 at a time when the majority of the population in Vilna was Russian. Jews had lived in Vilna since the fourteenth century when the Grand Duke of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth had invited merchants, artisans, and traders to develop his nation. In 1795, the Russian Empire annexed Vilna after the partition between the Russian Empire and Germany.

Vilna became the home of great modernist Yiddish poetry, important Jewish publishing houses, theatre, the final resting place of the Vilna Gaon and was the birthplace of the YIVO Institute.

The city known today by its Lithuanian name, Vilnius, was once part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Until the end of World War II, Vilna/Wilno (Yiddish/Polish) was a majority Polish- and Yiddish-speaking City. Lithuanian speakers were always a small fraction of its population. The Jews of Vilna were comfortable with both Russian and Polish culture.

After 1922, the new Polish government immediately started to eradicate Russian, hiring Polish teachers, opening Polish schools and a New Polish University. Successful Jews were quite cooperative and blended easily with the new changes. The new president at the time, Pilsutzky, was good to the Jews in that he didn’t allow physical violence against them.

Israel’s mother, Bella, spoke perfect Russian and Yiddish at home. Her children went to the Polish Gymnasium and read books in all three languages.

But still Yiddish was the language of choice for most families.

The year before Israel danced with Raisa for the first time, Bella Israelit, who had been a widow for five years, met a Jewish businessman from Glubokoje, married him, and went to live in his home town.

When life began to look dangerous in Byelorussia, Israel’s resourceful, intelligent mother miraculously managed to come back to Vilna. Knowing how elegant Israel’s mother was, Raisa got a new haircut before Bella’s arrival to make a good impression. She chose a style she had seen in a Hollywood movie.

Izia, how do you like her hair better, with her natural curls or this new look? Israel’s mother asked her son.

I like her anyway she chooses to be: in pyjamas, a fancy dress, with long curls or short hair. Raisa is always the most beautiful woman to me.

His answer was a music to Raisa’s ears.

Bella Israelit arrived two weeks before Pesach. She was clearly thrilled with Israel’s marriage to Raisa, and to see him so much in love.

Mama, you can stay with us as long as you wish. We have a big apartment. The young couple welcomed her with open arms.

"My dear kindalech, I will not stay long; only until things settle down a bit. It cannot be such chaos for much longer."

In difficult times, it is wise to be together. My parents are leaving soon to Valakumpija, to our dacha. Everybody. My sisters, Leah and Sara, are coming with their families. Mama, you should stay with us. Please. Izia missed you. He has spoken a lot about you. We will always take good care of you. Raisa was sincere.

They spent Pesach together at Raisa’s parents’ home. On April 12, there were thirty-two people sitting at the table for Seder.

Masha Kaplan made sweet and sour stew, cookies from dough boiled in honey, and traditional Vilna tsimes with carrots, beans, potatoes, onions, and prunes. Her specialty were latkes and pies made from matzah flour and stuffed with fried onions and jam.

Raisa’s father reclined on cushions at the head of the table. The kids searched for afikomen (as they did every other year) and received generous presents. Pesach was the most beautiful holiday to spend with family, as usual.

By the end of April 1941, Raisa and Israel had left for their dacha with the rest of the family. Bella Israelit decided to stay in their apartment in the city.

The smell of the pine in the country was supposed to be good for their health. The kids were busy playing outside, swimming in the lake, and gathering wild mushrooms and blueberries.

Delicious stillness soothed the soul. The sky was an innocent shade of light blue dotted with the tiny, yellow spots of young spring trees. Scrawny, naked branches awoke from a prolonged cold winter. The trunk of a huge, old tree in an open field was cut to form an inviting and comfy resting spot pretending to be a chair. Every tree had its own time for budding. The middle of May was a sheer symphony absorbing such harmony.

Lying on the soft, fresh grass and looking up, Raisa and Israel were mesmerized by the variety of shades of greens, light yellows, and deep, dark avocados that intercepted the dazzling array of new leaves. It was almost magical to witness nature in such virginal splendour crossing the boundaries in baby steps, from bush to bush and tree to tree. Here at this moment, they were relieved from their anxiety by the blossoming spring, listening to the sounds of the water